In a heartbeat
by Wildweasel
Summary: Oneshot...Response to the 6x10 challenge, "Don, I think I killed Stella?" My view with an angsty Smacked.


Here we go, it's my first one shot, and first CSI NY. It's my take about the 6x10 episode you like it. And a great thank you to my beta Blackdragon189, you rock girl!!

**Summary :** Response to the 6x10 challenge, "Don, I think I killed Stella?" My view with an angsty Smacked.

**Disclaimer :** I don't own anything. CSI NY and its characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckeimer.

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It happened so fast. His heart was slowly losing its pace, slowing down as the dark, starry sky over him changed to be replaced by a myriad of bright colors, blue glassy lights twinkling in rhythm of red sparkles. The cold seeped through his body, freezing him. Everything was over. He was losing it, the life and all that had been him. In a heartbeat, he had lost everything. Now there was nothing to keep him in this world. So he let it go. He felt his life slowly fading, but he didn't care anymore. The cold was there, he just had to let it go. It was easy to just let go and be taken by the glacial death that was enveloping him. Then, everything would disappear, the pain, the guilt... It wasn't worth living anymore. No more Mac Taylor, he thought.

But he couldn't, someone was yelling at him, urging him to open his eyes. The voice was scared, pressing and urging him to do something, but he didn't know what. So he had to open his eyes to see who it was. And there he was, Don Flack; his head bent over him. His lips were moving fast, talking to him, but he was unable to register the meaning. He had to tell him, Mac thought. Someone had to know what he had done. And with all his strength left, his lips moved painfully to form the dreadful words.

"Don," Mac croaked, "Don, I killed her."

"What?" Don urged, "Mac, what are you talking about ? Just hang on, okay? EMS is on its way. Just hang on Mac, please."

He felt hands press on his chest, an excruciating pain soaring from below.

"Don, I think I killed Stella," he managed to breathe out between ragged breaths. "Let me go, I don't deserve to live," he screamed weakly, his head dropping back on the soft leather Don had swiftly put under his head. "Let me go Don,.... I killed her," he hissed in pain. Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and blood. "Please," he pleaded, his voice now weak, "let me go."

His friend shot him a haggard look, "Mac." Don's voice trailed off, looking at a defeated Mac Taylor. "Mac you..."

But Mac wasn't listening to him anymore as his mind was replaying the previous events again and again. How could he have been so careless, he cursed his arrogance.

They had followed the suspects into a small building, leaving their team and backup far behind. The suspected arsonists were two men identified as Jimmy Spain and Russel Delaney with no previous records. The suspects had run to this building hoping to lose the cops. What had troubled him was their intent. Arsonists suspected of at least three fires this week in New York, and known to place bombs and booby traps to kill residents as they tried to evacuate, he had feared they would make more victims before they could lock them up for good.

Stella had locked eyes with him. Her emerald eyes silently checking if he wanted to go in pursuit of the two. He had then called Flack on the radio, giving him their position and where they were heading. Then, as his hand had set the radio back into his CSI jacket, he had given her a silent nod. As always, Mac Taylor would not back down from a fight. His sight wandered among the many lighted windows of the building. With so many lives in the balance, he couldn't take the chance to wait for backup. So far, nine people had died. One of them, a five year old, had been stuck in his room when the fire had started.

"Cause of death is by smoke inhalation" had said Sid. Although, he had been use to death with the Marines and his job with the NYPD, he couldn't shake, from his mind, the image of the small body hidden under his bed, his small black teddy bear cradled in his little arms. Those guys were killers, and would keep killing until they've been stopped or given their last breath. He glanced toward his ten-year partner, checking if she was ready. With a trained officer like Stella by his side, this shouldn't be a problem. Well, as long as there were no surprises. But this time there had been one.

Entering the building, he and Stella had rushed up the stairs, trying to remain unnoticed. Arriving on the fourth floor, giggles and laughter had caught their attention. Leaning against the corner of an old creamy, yellow wall, he had popped his head outside to look into the corridor, and had spotted the two suspects opening the fire fighting hose. He had shot a quick glance at Stella. She had nodded, raising her gun to her shoulders. After ten years, one look and each knew what the other was thinking. She was ready too, and would stick to his tail as soon as he would emerge into the corridor.

As he silently counted in his head, he jerked into the corridor at three, Stella on his heels.

"NYPD, drop everything you have in your hands and get on the wall, now!" he had yelled.

Both suspects were too surprised to react, and had done as ordered, leaning against the wall. But as they had approached them, one had jumped through the window, taking the fire exit stairs. Both detectives cursed under the daring move that obliged them to run after him. As he had stepped toward the window, the other had jumped on him, thinking probably, he could disarm him. But the man that he had identified as Jimmy Spain was quickly received by a Marine move as he had switched his balance onto the other foot and left his right shoulder taking the full blow. It was enough to make him spin on the left as the guy had continued his fall and had crashed loudly into the opposite wall. Immediately, he had aimed his gun at Jimmy, yelling to him to stay on the ground as Stella had rushed to the suspect, pulling out her handcuffs. She had cuffed him in the blink of an eye, already raising the man onto his feet. His head was bent slightly as he tried to swipe his bleeding nose with his shoulder.

"You got him?" he had asked her, his eyes locking with her to be sure.

"Yeah, I got this bastard Mac" she answered quickly with a tired grin.

Then, as he had turned to rush toward the window, she had called him back.

"Mac ?" Her tone implying he shouldn't go alone.

"I'll be fine. Stay here Stell," he had retorted without even looking at her. "I'll be back shortly."

With that, he had climbed down the fire escape, leaving her behind. But everything doesn't always happen according to Mac Taylor's plan, he cursed his pride. He had been so stupid. Yes he had found the suspect, even getting the upper hand on the man. In fact, he had managed to pin down the guy, Russel Delaney. His gun had been aimed at the back of the suspect.

"Stand down!" he had yelled. "You've lost! Now show me your hands."

And that's when the guy had laughed, pulling from his red undershirt a small iron box.

"No, you've lost cop!" had shot back Russel.

And in a heartbeat, he had seen his thumb pressing on the box. Detonator, had shouted his mind. He could recall the sound of his own gun shooting, the bullet leaving the barrel, going straight to his target. He had aimed at Russel's hand and the round had gone in as a through-and-through; a dark, crimson smear of blood staining his palm. Then, as in slow motion, he had watched the deadly artifact being released from Russel's grip, and falling on the wet pavement. The small box had then rolled down into the wet, greasy soil with a clink.

"Checkmate!" had spilled out Russel as a deformed smile had carved his face.

A red light had glowed on the box before it disappeared. Fear had seized his heart as he had realized it was a release detonator. His face had lost all color when he had turned slowly behind him.

A yellow light stormed suddenly, through the fourth floor. With a wrenching sound, an angry fire had blazed through the entire floor. Windows had exploded in a whoosh and shattered pieces had fallen down in the street, mimicking the sound of a pouring rain.

"Stella," had been all his mind could form, as he had watched helplessly, the fire devouring the building.

"You son of a..." he had cursed, turning toward Russel a look of hatred.

But Russel had been already up and rushing toward him, a small blade in his valid hand. With no time to avoid, he had felt the blade entering his flesh just under his left ribs. The blade had grazed at the bone as the man was going up for the kill. Then, his body had been run by trembles under the sudden pain and loss of blood pressure. His lungs had emptied as the deadly weapon had been pulled out to stab again, tearing more flesh on the way out. His legs had given out, his knees crashing on the pavement, his left hand pressing on the open wound. He had looked at the blood wetting his fingers, his vision getting blurry.

He had let out a deep breath as he had seen Russel raising his hand, and ready to stab him a second time. Reacting on pure adrenaline, he had blocked the deadly strike with his right arm, twisting his hand to catch Russel's wrist, and had rolled on his left. Stunned by the sudden move, Russel had lost his balance, falling forward onto him. But he had been waiting for it, and without giving him another chance to hurt anyone, he had twisted Russel's wrist, aiming the blade at the owner. Surprised by the expert move, Russel had no time to react, and had crashed right on top of him, his blade entering his chest in a sickening crack.

Panting, he had watched as life had slowly faded from Russel's eyes. He had never liked to kill, and even though this guy could be responsible for his partner's death, he had taken no pleasure in his death. He had slid the heavy body to his left and had rolled down onto his stomach. Hot pain had flared in his side as he had tried to get up but had failed miserably. Breathing loudly, his face had turned to the pavement, his blood oozing quickly out of his body. He had raised a weary sight toward the building on fire.

"Stella," his trembling lips had mumbled, as he had crawled toward the angry flames. He had felt his eyes watering and his body getting cold from the loss of blood. She couldn't be gone, his mind had repeated. _Not now, not like that._ His hands had clawed at the rough and oily ground, pulling his body toward the building on fire. After an eternity of pushing and pulling, leaving a bloody trail behind him, he had felt his body finally giving up. Only ten yards from the blaze he had stopped, drained of strength and hope, unable to make one more move.

Sirens had howled in the night, running steps had echoed in the alley as he had heard the cracking building crying in pain. He had failed her. His head had then dropped heavily onto the pavement covered with shattered glass.

"Mac!" he remembered someone had yelled, "oh god, hang on Mac!" Don had croaked in fear.

Then the quiet night had been filled with lights and urging sirens. He knew Don had turned him over, sending more pain in his side as hands had pressed firmly on his wound. How could he live without her?

His eyes were lost in the dark sky over him. But now, Don knew the truth too; he had told him. He knew about the terrible fate Mac Taylor had laid upon Stella Bonasera. By an evil twist of fate, he had abandoned her to her death. He had left her alone. He, her partner. He didn't deserve to live. Soon, he would join her, as Mac Taylor had killed Stella Bonasera. But he kept feeling the pain as the hands remained over him. Why was Don still helping him? Did he not understand what he had done ? He should let him die.

"I.......I... killed her Don,.... let me go," his voice trailed off, one of his arms trying to push Don away from him.

"Mac, c'mon! Drop that crazy talk, you hear me?" More hands started to grab him as he was dragged onto a stretcher. "You got to hang on, okay, buddy!" added a scared Don.

"I killed her," Mac repeated, his soul in agony. His head lolled to the side as his eyes slowly closed. He was ready to pay now, death could claim his due.

"Now you should have better faith in me Mac Taylor," whispered a voice close to his ear.

The warm breath stroking his cheek was enough to make him open his eyes. He had to know if his senses were playing tricks with him. But then, he saw that twinkling worry gleamed in a pair of emerald eyes. Stella gave him a tired smile.

Her face was covered with sweat mixed with dark soot, a small cut appearing over her eyes. She was there. His eyes burned under the salty tears, but he didn't dare to blink. The fear was too great that she would vanish before him like a dream if he closed them.

Her warm comforting hand entwined with his cold fingers, as the other brushed away a strand of dark hair stuck on his clammy forehead.

"Hey, there," she, softly, spoke.

Don stepped back to give more room for the ME as they wheeled Mac toward the ambulance, Stella clinging to his hand. Then, he watched quietly as they lifted him inside. As soon as he was settled in, Stella climbed in and slid to his side, not even bothering to ask if she was allowed to. She was his partner and earned that right a long time ago.

No one would ever be able to cut the link between those two, thought Don as a light smirk appeared on his face. He watched as the ME closed the ambulance's doors, and gave a small prayer, hoping Mac was going to be okay.

Inside the ambulance, the gloomy orange light was giving Mac a hard time as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"You.... there," Mac croaked, his breath coming in a short rasp.

"Yeah, I'm here partner, and so are you, you hear me?"

"Tired," his voice muffled, "can't...anymore..." His voice was slurring and Stella knew instantly something was wrong with Mac.

"No you can't Mac!" her voice raised, fear filling her tone. "Don't you dare give up on me, Mac !"

She darted an anguish look toward the ME, silently enquiring about Mac's condition.

"He lost a lot of blood." The ME dropped. "But no vital organ was touched." He looked straight at Stella, as he attached an IV to Mac's arm. "As long as he hangs on, he should be okay."

She pursed her lips; understanding the underline meaning. The rough rumble of the engine turned on, as the ambulance left the scene in a hurry. Although it wasn't a nice wound, the ME's words comforted her. As if there was one constant thing in her life, it was Mac's determination; his determination to fight and never back down. She looked back at him. His ashen face was covered in sweat, and a thin streak of blood was leaking from a small cut on his right temple. Probably from the shattered glass, she concluded.

His lips moved but his voice was too weak to be heard, so she bent to his ear, her face inches from his as brown curls fell down softly on his cheek. She gently stroked his hand as to encourage him to fight and to be sure to remind him he wasn't alone. For a moment, he let himself be drowned into her scent. Her perfume enveloping his senses, her heat warming his fingers and cheek and her skin grazing softly at his rough cheek was all he needed to regain some of his strength. And then, he spoke again, cracking open his green ocean eyes. She smiled, trying to recall how many times she had seen his eyes changing color from the surrounding light, turning from a light green to a deep dark blue.

"I thought I'd lost you this time," she heard him whisper in her ear.

She locked her emerald eyes to the green ocean pool full of pain and worry, and felt her heart squeeze in her chest at his tormented gaze. She sensed so many feelings wobbling inside those deep pools, like guilt and fear to lose her. As she stroked his pale cheek, she dropped a light kiss on his forehead, hoping it would shave away his pain and guilt.

"You'll never lose me Mac," she whispered only for him, "never."

With that he closed his eyes, a weak smile lighting his face as his mind was back to his own self. Mac Taylor had never backed down from a fight, his mind repeated, and this time was no different, although, this time he had a good reason to win; a reason with piercing emerald eyes.

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_Hope you liked it. It was a oneshot I wrote in one day and thought I should put it there and see what you guys think of it. _

_So feel free to drop me a line..._

_I'm currently on the process of writing a long Smacked and angsty story, so stay tuned for more with __Darkness closing in__._


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